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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117776">Release</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnityGhost/pseuds/UnityGhost'>UnityGhost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Asmodeus Being an Asshole (Supernatural), Caring Sam Winchester, Comforting Sam Winchester, Crying Gabriel (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel Has Issues (Supernatural), Gabriel Has PTSD (Supernatural), Gabriel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, Post-Season/Series 13, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:47:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnityGhost/pseuds/UnityGhost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Losing control doesn’t make things better. It hurts. It hurts me, because I can never get it all out; I’m never empty, Sam, and that feeling is never gone.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gabriel &amp; Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1150553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Release</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the 27th installment of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, I'm fulfilling two requests from Twistedlove: write something that takes place a little earlier in the series, and show Sam's response to one of the fainting spells to which past stories have alluded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>You mentioned this chapter ["To Slip and Fall"] about him losing consciousness in the past. I wonder how Sam reacted to that.</i>
</p>
<p>I envision this as taking place somewhere between the second and third entries ("Heavy" and "Midnight Blue"). I've said it before: continuity is a little out of my reach because this was never supposed to become a series (whoopsie), but I do what I can to keep things as smooth as possible.</p>
<p>Got me thinking about the time I fainted in front of a crowd while giving a poetry reading. Womp womp.</p>
<p>Anyway, if you like cats (and me?), I'm on Tumblr as UnityGhost. Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the seventh consecutive day of rain, time began to feel crooked. Gabriel fell asleep at lunchtime and woke two hours later to his door creaking open.</p>
<p>Sam smiled when Gabriel rolled over to look at him. “Hey, Gabriel.”</p>
<p>Gabriel groaned and pressed the heels of his hands over either temple to try and ease an oncoming headache. “Good to see you, Sam. My favorite part of the reunion was when you didn’t knock.”</p>
<p>“You must’ve slept through it. We haven’t seen you in a few hours. Everything okay on your end?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine. What do you need?”</p>
<p>“Just wanted to let you know we saved some casserole for you in case you were hungry. I mean, you haven’t eaten since …”</p>
<p>Gabriel shoved himself upright. “I don’t remember either.”</p>
<p>Sam frowned at him, then glanced over his shoulder into the hall. “Hey … is it all right if I step in for a second?”</p>
<p>Gabriel scanned Sam’s face, his hands, his body. “What for?”</p>
<p>Sam looked a little surprised by the shift in Gabriel’s tone. “You can say no.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t answer the question.”</p>
<p>“I’m not …” Sam offered an uncertain smile. “I’m not here to punish you or whatever, if that’s where your mind went.”</p>
<p>Gabriel cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “No, that isn’t what I thought. Um, yeah, make yourself comfy, champ.”</p>
<p>Sam stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “I was only looking to check up on you. Figured maybe you wanted to talk to me.”</p>
<p>Gabriel almost asked, <i>Why? What am I doing wrong?</i> Instead he answered with, “About what?”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Sam, “For one, you look kind of … awful.”</p>
<p>“That’s according to plan. The last thing I’d want to do is make any one of you feel jealous.”</p>
<p>“And also, you - ”</p>
<p>“Wait.” Gabriel held up a hand. “Listen, Sam: I’m sorry, but at the moment I’m not sure I have the stamina to rifle through a scrapbook full of bad memories. You know better than anybody how much that kind of works takes out of the both of us.”</p>
<p>Sam shrugged. “We don’t have to do anything like that. We could just … hang out.” He waited for Gabriel to reply. When Gabriel said nothing, Sam declared, “No problem. In the meantime, I guess maybe I’ll go get some coffee and hang out in the library. Dean just now told me he thinks he might’ve found us a case to work on in Connecticut. Nothing’s for sure yet, but might as well use the time to dig up whatever info might end up being useful, right? So if you need me - ”</p>
<p>“Don’t know why I would.”</p>
<p>“ - I’ll be in the library.” Sam turned, and placed a hand on the doorknob.</p>
<p>“Hold on,” said Gabriel, and Sam turned back. “Don’t go all the way to Connecticut.”</p>
<p>“We don’t have plans yet. Plus, I don’t have to be the one to go if it makes you nervous.”</p>
<p>“No one’s nervous; I just … I … you know.”</p>
<p>Sam looked puzzled. “No. I don’t know.”</p>
<p>What was Gabriel doing? It was ridiculous - not to mention wildly imprudent - that he should try and dictate Sam’s actions. It was even more absurd that he should feel threatened by the prospect of Sam not being nearby.</p>
<p>“Ah, never mind,” said Gabriel. “You can totally go to Connecticut. Pennsylvania. Arkansas. Colorado. The Pyrenees. Anywhere that tickles your fancy, Sam.”</p>
<p>Sam let go of the doorknob. “Gabriel, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re spending too much time alone.”</p>
<p>Gabriel glanced at the floor, thinking of the nightmares and flashbacks to which Sam had been witness since Gabriel first arrived at the bunker several weeks earlier. He was afraid that, if he said anything now, he would be perpetuating a trend that he did not want to continue. “There’s some way to describe what’s up with me, but I’m not confident about getting it right.”</p>
<p>“Bad dreams?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. For sure. Always.” He continued to avoid Sam’s gaze. “They come at odd hours when I can’t keep track of day and night. The rain, you know? Not like we can see it from here. But I feel it. It’s weird, actually; it’s like I can sense it in a way I couldn’t before. Near-gracelessness and whatnot - makes me tired, causes pain … everything feels different now. But it’s not about the nightmares - that isn’t new.”</p>
<p>“So what else, then? Can you tell me?”</p>
<p>Gabriel remained silent.</p>
<p>“Gabriel,” Sam said, “You’re the only one who knows what you’re feeling.”</p>
<p>Gabriel shook his head. “I’m the only one who <i>feels</i> what I’m feeling. But I don’t know what it is, or how to give an accurate picture. Headachey, I guess. Exhausted.”</p>
<p>Sam waited for him to say more. When Gabriel didn’t go on, Sam took a few cautious steps toward the bed and sat beside him.</p>
<p>“I feel like you might be getting worse,” Sam said softly, “Not better.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well ...”</p>
<p>“You’re spending a lot of time by yourself. And whenever any of us tries to get you to hang out, or eat, or go for a walk, or whatever, you just sort of … hide.”</p>
<p>“I don’t hide.”</p>
<p>“What would you call it?”</p>
<p>“Voluntary seclusion.”</p>
<p>“I’m not prosecuting you. You know that, right? It isn’t wrong if you need time to yourself. It’s just that I’ve never thought of you as a wallflower.”</p>
<p>“Excuse you. I’m the prettiest of all wallflowers; I’m a whole-ass bouquet.”</p>
<p>“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Sam’s tone was gentle. “As best you can?”</p>
<p>Gabriel fidgeted. “I mean … sure. I can give you what I know. But that’s all I’ve got.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, tell me.”</p>
<p>Gabriel took a deep breath, released it, and began: “You guys have a good, solid rhythm going. Your own thing. Your own little family. Who am I to look for a place in that, huh? Plus - and I know you won’t be happy about this, Sam, but it is what it is - sometimes I prefer not to be around the others. Dean is … intense, Cas is hard to read - especially when my grace is low and I can’t always communicate with him in ways I might have before - and Jack is … look, the fact of the matter is Jack is a stranger. I’m sorry, but you’re the only one I can trust even a little bit, and otherwise I’d rather be alone.</p>
<p>“There’s one more thing, and it doesn’t make a lick of sense: most of the time, I wish I wasn’t by myself - but I feel like I have no choice. Now, obviously, nobody’s depriving me of the option to saunter out there and say, ‘Screw it, I know not one of you is looking to throw me around like a bargain-bin Raggedy-Ann knockoff.’ But here I am, some castaway watching a cruise ship glide past on still waters, and I’m not doing a damn thing to get myself rescued.” Gabriel clenched his jaw. “So I go with plan B: lock myself in here like a sick kitten and cry.”</p>
<p>He heard Sam shift beside him. </p>
<p>“The point is,” Gabriel went on, “None of this makes sense. <i>I</i> don’t make sense.”</p>
<p>“I think it makes sense.” Gabriel tried to catch any revulsion or annoyance in Sam’s voice and couldn’t. “All of it makes sense to me.”</p>
<p>“Bully for you, Sam. I don’t know what metric you’re using, but something ain’t adding up.”</p>
<p>“I think you just need to let yourself adjust. Give yourself some space to heal. And time - you gotta give yourself time before you can expect to really feel better.”</p>
<p>Gabriel raised his eyes to meet Sam’s. “Time and space sound fantastic, but they’re not what I need. I need my grace. I need to forget about Asmodeus. And - ”</p>
<p>Sam furrowed his brow. “And?”</p>
<p>Gabriel swallowed. “And I need that <i>now</i>.”</p>
<p>Sam lifted a hand. “Can I - ”</p>
<p>“No,” said Gabriel, “Please don’t touch me.”</p>
<p>Sam lowered his hand. “Look ... Gabe … there’s no forgetting. That isn’t what you need. And you can’t hold yourself to that standard, because you’re setting yourself up for failure if you decide that the only way to improve is to forget.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, no one’s trying to make a case for its likelihood. All I’m saying is that’s the only thing that could ever make a difference. You asked me to talk, we can talk - but if you can’t handle the truth then maybe find another conversation partner. However, if you think you can metabolize it, you want to know what I’ve learned since coming here?”</p>
<p>“What’s that?”</p>
<p>“You really want to know?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Gabe. I really do.”</p>
<p>“Dandy.” Gabriel made sure to hold Sam’s gaze this time. “Here’s your appetizer: on my first night here, I learned that sleep doesn’t have anything to do with rest, and that the unconscious brain can hold about ten different storylines at one time. A little meatier: after that I learned just how committed a graceless body can be to purging itself of phantom danger even when there’s nothing left to throw up. By now - and here’s your entree - I’ve learned that getting out of Hell doesn’t mean I’m not still there. How was I to know I’d be scared of my own brother? Scared of Dean? How was I supposed to plan for that? And how was I supposed to anticipate just how much help I was going to need when I ought to be damn well capable of helping myself?” Gabriel turned away. “Hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget to leave a tip.”</p>
<p>“Gabriel …” This time, Sam simply took Gabriel by the shoulder.</p>
<p>Gabriel jolted away. “Stop it, I told you not to!”</p>
<p>“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Sam softened his voice. “I really didn’t think. Listen, buddy, don’t be so hard on yourself about all this.”</p>
<p>Gabriel gave a cold smile. “Even when it’s happening all the time?”</p>
<p>“‘It?’ What’s happening all the time?”</p>
<p>“I see Asmodeus everywhere, Sam. Around every corner, behind me, next to me, in every one of you. Even you - sometimes. And I … that’s not all right, and I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“You won’t get better by being sorry, Gabriel.”</p>
<p>“You worry about me holing myself up in here, away from the rest of you? You worry about not being able to monitor me all the time?”</p>
<p>“No. I get that there’s no reason to keep tabs on you twenty-four/seven. I worry because it’s nothing like you to pull yourself away from everyone around you and I feel like you might need … I don’t know. Something.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? And what do you think you’re gonna do when I finally agree to set the party ablaze with this killer personality Asmodeus cultivated for almost a millennium? You know, Sam, sometimes humans throw around this idea that it’s better to get it all out - to let yourself be messy, to break down freely. Because sure, all right: your kind aren’t built to house your pain in those bodies indefinitely. And then there’s me.” Gabriel laughed, harshly and quietly. “I can hold it. I can keep myself together. But, just like you, like <i>any</i> human being, I reach a tipping point. Fair enough; I can accept that. Except here’s one other fun tidbit I’ve learned: losing control doesn’t help. Sobbing myself into a coma never does a damn thing to make the pain anything but more real. Think twice about whether you’re prepared to see that for yourself, Sammy.”</p>
<p>There was a lengthy pause after he finished. Gabriel listened to the footsteps in the hall, the occasional click of a door, Dean shouting a question to Castiel.</p>
<p>When Sam didn’t speak, Gabriel kept on: “It’s <i>easier</i>, Sam. It’s just plain <i>easier</i> to hide. For me, and for you. For all of you. The truth is I’m - I mean - I’m scared out of my wits, and I don’t know how to change that.”</p>
<p>“That’s how you’re supposed to feel after somebody hurts you,” Sam replied before Gabriel could add <i>I’m sorry</i>. “And do you really think it’s easier to lock yourself up?”</p>
<p>“Why else would I be doing it? When have I ever done anything other than take the easy way out?”</p>
<p>“You don’t think maybe you’re making this harder for yourself on purpose?”</p>
<p>“I have no <i>idea</i> what I’m doing to myself!” Gabriel was beginning to feel sick. “I don’t know how much is me and how much is him.”</p>
<p>“You aren’t going to feel any better, any freer, if every time you feel like you’re back in Hell you reinforce it by holding yourself hostage. Gabriel - look - I won’t make you listen to me or talk to me, but I need you to know that I’m not as scared of seeing you in pain as you are. You don’t have to dedicate any amount of time to me or anybody else, but we’re here. <i>I’m</i> here. And I really don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of.”</p>
<p><i>Shut up,</i> Gabriel wanted to say. <i>I have everything to be ashamed of.</i> But he couldn’t speak: his throat was locked tight, exactly the way he locked himself in the bedroom when he didn’t want the rest of them to see what was happening to him.</p>
<p>“You have the power to drown him out,” Sam continued. “He’s gone and you have the power to make sure he stays gone.”</p>
<p>Gabriel shook his head. He hadn’t had any kind of power for a long time now.</p>
<p>“And you’ve got more than that,” Sam reminded him. “You’ve got us. Me especially, if that’s all you want right now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want anything,” Gabriel whispered.</p>
<p>If there could be no forgetting, he realized, then there had to be acceptance. Letting the others in - letting any of them, especially Sam, any nearer - would facilitate just the opposite by bringing the pain into the full sight of everyone, including Gabriel; allowing the others to see, to watch, would be to keep the pain alive.</p>
<p>Acceptance necessitated tolerance. Welcoming their gestures of goodwill not only showed intolerance for the memories that haunted him but signaled that he was prepared to fight what he knew would never, ever go away unless he could erase it from his mind completely.</p>
<p>He leaned forward, so that his forehead was close to his knees, and buried his fingers in his hair.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” asked Sam.</p>
<p>“Yes.” But the truth was that Gabriel was struggling to breathe against the tightness in his throat. His headache had, within the last few minutes, grown exponentially stronger.</p>
<p>“Gabriel,” Sam murmured, “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Nothing.” His heartbeat increased as he struggled to draw breath. He knew that he was able to breathe, knew that this was simply an unwelcome byproduct of the battle, but he struggled nonetheless.</p>
<p>“Gabe, what’s the matter?” He felt Sam put a hand on his back, and this time Gabriel didn’t startle. “Can you sit up, maybe? Are you gonna be sick?”</p>
<p>He sounded worried. Gabriel wanted to tell him not to worry, that nothing was seriously wrong; that sometimes, this was what it looked like when he decided not to give in, not to let go.</p>
<p>It occurred to Gabriel then that Sam had seen him break down before, and perhaps there was little point in going to these lengths just to shield Sam from something he’d already witnessed.</p>
<p>Then he remembered that thinking in that direction - the direction of <i>maybe</i> just this once - would trick Gabriel into believing that it was all right to put himself on display, to showcase this obscenely vulnerable side of himself to anyone who might toy with it; or, worse, to someone like Sam, who would probably never do any such thing and allow Gabriel to take advantage of him.</p>
<p><i>Way to breathe, dumbass,</i> Gabriel thought as he grew dizzy; and then he realized that somebody was calling his name and that he was on the floor with no recollection of having placed himself there.</p>
<p>He tried to piece together the last few seconds - moments? Minutes? - and found that he couldn’t. Then he realized what must have happened, but why was there another presence? Who was standing over him?</p>
<p>“No,” Gabriel groaned, and tried to sit up just as a pair of hands seized hold of him. “Don’t - ”</p>
<p>“It’s just me, Gabriel, just me.”</p>
<p>“Let go,” Gabriel ground out, and Sam did. Gabriel lay back down again.</p>
<p>“What the hell was that?” Sam demanded. “What happened? Gabriel, man - you wouldn’t wake up for about two minutes.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Gabriel closed his eyes.</p>
<p>“No!” Sam commanded, and Gabriel’s eyes flew open. He stared up at the ceiling, not daring to move. Sometimes moving, trying to get away - that only made it worse.</p>
<p>“Just stay awake,” Sam said, softening his voice. “Just - I need to know you’re all right.”</p>
<p>Gabriel turned his head to get a better look at Sam, who was knelt on the floor beside him, pale and wide-eyed but apparently not as angry as Gabriel had believed.</p>
<p>“I was going to call someone else in,” Sam explained, “But I figured if you woke up and there was another person here you might get nervous.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes,” Gabriel slurred.</p>
<p>“What? Sometimes what?”</p>
<p>“Happens sometimes. Like oops.”</p>
<p>“Gabriel,” Sam said, “I need you to give me a single coherent sentence before I decide not to get help.”</p>
<p>“No. Not a big deal. I get a little upset. Tired. Whatever. And then this.”</p>
<p>“Do you know where you are? Who I am? What year it is?”</p>
<p>“Floor; Sam; post-moon landing, pre-teleportation.”</p>
<p>“How do you feel right now?”</p>
<p>“Floppy.”</p>
<p>“Why’d you pass out?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“I mean … it’s like when I get sick, sort of. Moderately less degrading.” Feeling a little more alert, Gabriel pushed himself upright. Sam looked tempted to assist, and Gabriel was grateful when he didn’t try.</p>
<p>“A stress response,” Sam said. “One you didn’t mention.”</p>
<p>“Never came up.”</p>
<p>“So right now, just now - you worked yourself up to the point that you couldn’t even stay conscious?”</p>
<p>“Good at it, aren’t I?” Gabriel leaned against the bedframe and pulled his knees to his chest. He couldn’t tell what Sam was feeling, but he sensed a certain level of frustration. Perhaps Gabriel was confusing desperation with anger; but whatever emotions were driving Sam’s reaction to this episode, there could be no mistaking what Gabriel himself was feeling. He told himself not to be afraid of Sam, and yet …</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean to,” he told Sam. “I really didn’t mean to. I didn’t - ”</p>
<p>“I know you didn’t mean to.” Sam sighed. “I’m not mad, all right? I’m sorry. I’m not. That was just really weird to watch. You went white and started falling off the bed. I grabbed you when half your body was already on the floor, so you didn’t hit your head or anything, but - ”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Prince Charming. My head already hurts like a bitch so I’m glad to be spared.”</p>
<p>“This happens a lot?”</p>
<p>Gabriel tethered his gaze to the floor. “No. It happens when I decide to fight.”</p>
<p>“Fight? Fight what?”</p>
<p>“My instincts. When I decide not to buy into what I said about letting yourself just lose control. There’s no reason to indulge in a breakdown if all it does is make me feel worse. Sometimes this is a … a, ah, side effect of that.”</p>
<p>“God, Gabriel. This is why you need to look for someone instead of running away from us.”</p>
<p>“Can I ask you something?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Of course. What?”</p>
<p>Gabriel peered up at him. “Can you look me dead in the eyes and tell me that you know from firsthand experience that giving yourself space to parade your emotions around for others to witness and potentially ransack has proven a helpful strategy?”</p>
<p>Sam blinked. “I … no. I can’t.”</p>
<p>“Then what the hell are we doing?”</p>
<p>“I never had a chance to find out for myself.” Sam gave a rueful smile. “But I know what I needed.”</p>
<p>“You’re not - oh.” Gabriel looked away again. “I didn’t mean to be an ass.”</p>
<p>“None of this is about me. I’m more interested in making sure you don’t collapse again.”</p>
<p>“I won’t. That only happens when I’m grossly inconvenienced by my own coping mechanisms.”</p>
<p>“Can I help you up?” Sam offered his hands, apparently to hold onto Gabriel; but Gabriel, who didn’t take well to the notion of being touched like that when he was too weak to retaliate, grabbed Sam’s hands instead and let him pull him up that way.</p>
<p>“Wanna lie down?” Sam asked as Gabriel retook his seat on the bed.</p>
<p>“No. No sleeping. No nightmares. Not right now. I just - I can’t.”</p>
<p>“Not even if I stay here with you?”</p>
<p>“You busted in here to talk, didn’t you? Not to watch me while I sleep. Don’t be weird.”</p>
<p>The mattress creaked as Sam sat back down.</p>
<p>“Oh, and for what it’s worth” Gabriel added, “I appreciate your discretion. Thanks for not bringing anyone else in.”</p>
<p>Sam smiled. “I’m glad you’re not too banged up.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m sorry. For being such a diva. ‘Look at this, Sam; watch me swoon.’ Have you ever seen such melodrama in your life?”</p>
<p>“It’s not melodrama. If you’re struggling that bad - if you’re sick and tired and passing out and crying - that means something’s wrong. It means you need help. What good is there in bullying yourself just for needing help?”</p>
<p>Gabriel surveyed him. Sam looked alert, concerned - perhaps even a little frightened. “Sam … you know the feeling of when someone wants to hurt you and you’d do anything to escape? And the panic is so strong you forget how to put up a rational fight, and all you can do is throw yourself around like a trapped insect? Being kidnapped, or tortured, or held in place - you know that violent, helpless, hysterical feeling?”</p>
<p>Sam looked vaguely nauseated. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I feel whenever I know help is nearby. And if I give in to that feeling, I’ll scream myself raw and it won’t do any good. Losing control doesn’t make things better. It hurts. It hurts me, because I can never get it all out; I’m never empty, Sam, and that feeling is never gone.” His voice trembled. “Frankly, everything made way more sense in Hell. It all added up to an even integer. I was afraid because I was locked in a cell at the mercy of a narcissistic screwball who’d been handed complete power over me. But <i>now</i>? Now I have no reason to feel trapped and alone.”</p>
<p>“And you need one,” Sam said, “So you give yourself one.”</p>
<p>“No! I mean - do I? See, what does that tell you? I’m nuts. I’ve gone off the freakin’ rails. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. All I know is I need help and I’m not going to be okay no matter how much I get. So what’s the point in wringing myself out for something that’s not even going to make a difference in the end?”</p>
<p>Fragments of memory crept forward: Gabriel, screaming and sobbing through the stitches across his mouth, while Asmodeus laughed above him.</p>
<p>“I can plead until time flips itself inside-out,” Gabriel told Sam, “And nothing - <i>nothing</i> - is going to make all that fighting worth it.”</p>
<p>“Not with Asmodeus.” Sam offered his hand. After a moment’s deliberation, Gabriel accepted it. “He liked to waste your time. Here, with us, you don’t have to beg for anything. Food, water, help. Whatever. You don’t have to tear yourself apart just to get what you need.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t <i>do</i> anything,” Gabriel pleaded. “Letting go, losing control - it just makes things worse. It makes the pain stronger, Sam. I can try and try and it’s still caught inside of me and it won’t come out no matter how hard I pull at it.”</p>
<p>“When you’re by yourself, sure. It’s not a one-man job.”</p>
<p>“I should be stronger than this. Stronger than any of this. Stronger than him, stronger than my own mind, stronger than this feeling. Sam - I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be whatever it is he turned me into.”</p>
<p>Sam squeezed his hand. “He didn’t turn you into anything. You’re still Gabriel.”</p>
<p>“But that’s not … I don’t …” Gabriel didn’t know how to explain that “Gabriel,” whomever that might be, had always been diseased, and that Asmodeus had simply hurt what needed to be hurt.</p>
<p>“I’m confused,” said Gabriel. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”</p>
<p>“You’re trying to heal. I think sometimes that can be as rough as whatever it is you’re trying to heal from.”</p>
<p>“I’m tired. Tired and terrified and - and I hate what I am, and how I see everything now; I hate that I don’t know how to keep myself under control. I hate that I come in here to cry. I don’t know; I don’t understand. I’m not - I don’t - ” Gabriel used his free hand to cover his face. “Everything is wrong with me.”</p>
<p>“But in what universe are you not supposed to be scared and upset and confused after everything that happened to you?”</p>
<p>Gabriel shook his head. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know.” He felt tears glide over his cheeks and kept his face hidden as best he could with the one hand.</p>
<p>“Well,” Sam said, “If anybody would know, don’t you think it’d be you?”</p>
<p>Gabriel didn’t reply.</p>
<p>“Look.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “I really think you should consider swallowing your pride once in a while and maybe pushing back against your own instincts. Don’t bury yourself in whatever it is Asmodeus put into your head.”</p>
<p>Gabriel gave a strangled laugh and slid his hand from his face, forgetting for a moment that Sam could see the tears. “Is that really what you think? That my instinct is to hide and not come running to you? Sam, the only instincts I ever have tell me to throw myself at your feet and grovel.”</p>
<p>“Grovel? For what?”</p>
<p>“For understanding. For affection. For touch. I don’t know; all I can tell you is I need something from you and I have to push myself in the opposite direction so that I don’t disgust you. And so that I don’t get cozy, because that could be taken from me so fast. The number of times he laughed at me, Sam, or kicked me in the face because I didn’t stop crying when he told me to …”</p>
<p>Sam looked repulsed. “Gabriel, I would never do that to you!”</p>
<p>“He used to say, ‘I wish you could get a glimpse of yourself; even you wouldn’t believe you were looking at an archangel. You know what you are, don’t you? You’re a roach with a busted leg and guts all over the floor. You’re lucky I don’t just squish the life out of you here and now.’”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Sam, “Okay. Stop. I don’t think that about you; none of us think that. Don’t trust anything he told you. The guy was a monster.”</p>
<p>“Well, so is this thing inside of me, Sam. This thing that tells me to go looking for help - this thing that makes me so afraid and panicked and desperate - it’s insatiable and trying to feed it just makes it hungrier.”</p>
<p>“<i>With him</i> it would have. Yes. Because you tried to get what you needed and he didn’t let you have anything. If you really wanna look at it like that, as something that needs to be fed - I mean, what are you supposed to think if it’s always been starved?”</p>
<p>Gabriel couldn’t think of a response.</p>
<p>“I’m tired,” he said at last. “I feel sick and exhausted. I’m not - ” He leaned against Sam, who released Gabriel’s hand to put an arm around him. “I just don’t feel well at all.” He turned to press his face into Sam’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“This has been a hard time,” Sam agreed. “I know that. Trust me, I know. And that isn’t your fault.”</p>
<p>“I should be - ”</p>
<p>“Who’s holding you to anything, huh? You’re not supposed to be any one way about this. Really.”</p>
<p>Gabriel almost asked, <i>Then why isn’t it acceptable for me to lock myself away?</i> Then he thought better of it, because Sam had been right: it wasn’t like Gabriel to make himself unknown. He had run away, certainly - but he had not remained in the shadows. Gabriel had never kept himself entirely hidden. Never.</p>
<p>He didn’t often think of who he had been before his imprisonment. For all he knew, that version of himself was the one Asmodeus hated most, the version that had deserved the most punishment.</p>
<p>But the thought that Gabriel might never get that part of himself back, the possibility that Asmodeus had forced him into <i>wanting</i> to stay hidden - somehow this notion flooded him with horrified grief that came on like a surge of nausea. He didn’t miss whatever it was he had been - at least, he didn’t think he missed it, although since he deliberately paid so little attention he couldn’t be sure - but the absence of something that had made him who he was suddenly felt unbearable.</p>
<p>The tears came silently, blurring his vision and stealing his voice. The knot in his throat stung like needles and tightened his chest, so that he had trouble breathing again.</p>
<p><i>I’ll never get that back,</i> Gabriel thought. <i>It belongs to Asmodeus now.</i></p>
<p>Sam pulled him in closer and Gabriel grabbed onto him, afraid that Sam would let go. He remembered moments like this with Asmodeus - clinging to him in exactly the same way. It was only when Sam muttered, “I know, I know it’s rough; I know,” did Gabriel realize that he could distinguish between the two experiences.</p>
<p>Gabriel heard himself make a horrible, choked groan into Sam’s shoulder. He gritted his teeth against the urge to scream - an urge that soon became too much and manifested not as a scream but as fractured moaning.</p>
<p>“I know,” Sam murmured again. “I know. But it’s gonna be all right. You’re doing just fine, I promise.”</p>
<p>Gabriel tried to speak, but the words slid into each other and ricocheted off of each breath so that nothing could be understood.</p>
<p>“What?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>“I - I can’t,” Gabriel sobbed. “I can’t.”</p>
<p>“Can’t what?”</p>
<p>“Stop. I can’t stop. I’m trying. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Nobody’s telling you you have to stop. Especially not me. Take whatever time you need.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Gabriel shuddered in Sam’s grasp. “I can’t - can’t stop.”</p>
<p>“Then don’t. Nothing wrong with that.”</p>
<p>“No, I want - I need - I can’t stop; I need it to - ” He was gasping, choking. “Because it won’t do - won’t change anything, and I need it to stop.”</p>
<p>“Don’t think about that. Just relax. I’m here. You’re safe.” Sam paused, then added, “I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I just wanted to check on you because - ”</p>
<p>“Because you knew I was already upset.” Gabriel gave a shaky laugh. “Because you knew that I - that this was - ”</p>
<p>Somehow Gabriel couldn’t say it, but perhaps Sam understood: Gabriel had needed this, or something like this, to remind him that he was no longer in Hell. That there was no pain, no punishment, no derision. There was no clawing at the bars of a filthy cell and howling into a damp chamber full of bloodthirsty phantoms. Certainly, there was self-disgust; there was shame just as powerful as any he had felt with Asmodeus - but there was no fear.</p>
<p>Did that mean he truly would never be able to stop?</p>
<p>Gabriel pressed his face deeper into Sam’s shoulder.</p>
<p>
  <i>Even if I can - </i>
</p>
<p>“All right there?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>
  <i>- this will still happen again.</i>
</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry,” Gabriel whimpered.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I am. I really am.”</p>
<p>“What for?”</p>
<p>“For all the times you might have to see this.”</p>
<p>“Hey, no, come on.”</p>
<p>Gabriel didn’t ask whether Sam meant <i>Come on, it’s not gonna happen again</i> or <i>Come on, of course you don’t have to be sorry.</i> He was afraid of the answer.</p>
<p>“Think about it this way,” Sam said after a while. “If it were one of us - ”</p>
<p>“I know, Sam.” Gabriel closed his eyes. “But it’s not.”</p>
<p>“Yes it is.”</p>
<p>There was a knock at the door. Gabriel wrenched himself away from Sam.</p>
<p>“No one else needs to see,” he explained.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Sam got to his feet. “Let me handle it, then.”</p>
<p>Whoever it was knocked a second time. “Gabriel?”</p>
<p>Dean.</p>
<p>Sam opened the door. “Can you give us a minute?”</p>
<p>“Nope. Because if he ain’t gonna take what’s left of the casserole then it belongs to me.”</p>
<p>Sam sighed. “Dean …”</p>
<p>“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Sammy. But I did make the casserole.”</p>
<p>“He hasn’t eaten; can’t you just - ”</p>
<p>“It’s perishable. It’s a delicate recipe. Gabe!”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Sam said quickly. “He’s - let me ask him.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Gabriel said. He tried to speak loudly enough for Dean to hear, but his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and repeated, “It’s fine, Dean. Take it. I don’t need your germs.”</p>
<p>He heard Dean shift - perhaps trying to step inside. “Sounding a little rough there, bud.”</p>
<p>“Dean,” said Sam, “Go away.”</p>
<p>A pause. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Sam told him. “Just …”</p>
<p>In the silence that followed, Gabriel had the sense that Dean was trying to read whatever signals Sam might be sending.</p>
<p>“You know what?” Dean said at last. “I’m suddenly in the mood for burgers. Gabe feels up to it, he can have the casserole. So I guess I’ll, uh … I’ll catch you two later.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Sam sounded relieved. “All right. Thanks.” He closed the door.</p>
<p>“Thanks yourself,” Gabriel said as Sam came to sit down again. “No need for him to see me like this. But hey, Sam - you know I’m not trying to monopolize your time, right? Because you have a lot of other jobs besides babysitting a whiny recluse.”</p>
<p>“Man, you have got to stop talking about yourself that way. Besides, I don’t have anything more important right now.”</p>
<p>“What about the case in Connecticut?”</p>
<p>“We don’t even know if we there is a case.”</p>
<p>“So go do a little digging, find what you can find; maybe it’ll help you decide what you’ve got on your hands here.”</p>
<p>“Really. There’s nowhere I need to be.”</p>
<p>“Sam, <i>I’m</i> gonna feel better if you move on from what just happened without any fanfare, all right? My energy is shot. I think it’d be good for me to take a hot second to breathe and you to get done whatever work might lower the odds of you getting yourself bloodied up in some elitist New England suburb.”</p>
<p>Sam looked both surprised and hesitant. “Do you wanna come with me?”</p>
<p>“No. Just give me a few minutes and then I’ll … if I need you, I’ll get you. How’s that sound?”</p>
<p>Cautiously, Sam stood up. “If that’s really what you think would be helpful.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Go. And thank you.” Gabriel glanced away. “You had a point.”</p>
<p>“About what?”</p>
<p>“About - come on, don’t make me say it. You know what.”</p>
<p>Sam considered him. Then he nodded, and Gabriel hoped he remembered: <i>It’s not a one-man job.</i></p>
<p>“I’ll be close by,” Sam told him. “And please - don’t try to pretend, okay?”</p>
<p>“Fine. But I’m good, Sam. For now, I’m good.”</p>
<p>Sam remained in place for a few more seconds, contemplating whether to heed Gabriel’s request. Then he smiled, tentatively, and moved toward the exit.</p>
<p>“But you can leave the door open,” Gabriel called, and Sam did.</p>
<p>Gabriel could hear Dean, Cas, and Jack somewhere in another room - although he couldn’t be sure which one. He slid off of the bed and moved toward the sound. They were in the kitchen.</p>
<p>The three of them, seated around the table with bottles of beer (<i>When did those melonheads start giving Jack alcohol?</i> Gabriel wondered), all fell silent when they saw him.</p>
<p>“Hey fellas,” said Gabriel. “Got room for one more?”</p>
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